


Hank is a sub in a Dom's body

by LadyDrace



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV Hank Anderson, Pre-Relationship, Sub Hank Anderson, Suggested D/s, Switch Connor (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26746891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Hank is a security guard at Cyberlife.Connor has no credentials and wants to get in. To Cyberlife and also Hank's pants.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59





	Hank is a sub in a Dom's body

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, there was some talk on the hankcon discord about the irony of a security guard being a sub, and well, it awoke something in me!
> 
> No beta, we die like pervs.

“Look, buddy, I know, but I can’t let you in,” Hank says, trying to stay diplomatic. “You don’t have clearance, so if you step through that door, I’m gonna have to escort you outta here.”

The guy trying to convince him he _lives there_ has no ID and no paperwork of any kind to prove who he is. He’s also disturbingly gorgeous and half Hank’s age, and none of this would be a problem if he wasn’t so insistent on trying to trespass.

  
  
“I’m telling you, call Amanda. She’ll vouch for me.”  
  


  
“’Fraid that’s not how it works, kid. You need papers, or you’re not getting in.”

A few people do live on Cyberlife grounds, but Hank’s been security here for six months, he knows every single face by now.

And he sure would have remembered this fucking cocky twink.

Said twink rolls his pretty brown eyes, obviously of the opinion that this is all highly inconvenient to him. It’s also inconvenient to Hank, but in much larger part thanks to his stirring boner.

“Amanda’s waiting for me. I have to go see her.”

“Then call her and explain. She’s the one who hired me for this damn job, and I’d like to think she’d appreciate me, you know, _doing it_.”

Not that he wouldn’t much rather be _doing_ something completely different right now.

As if smelling it on him or something, the twink gives him a look, and then subtly changes his stance. Hank can already see where this is going.

“Come on. You be nice to me, I’ll be nice to you,” twink boy says, eyes half lidded and voice sultry.  
  
  
  
“Nice try, but still no,” Hank says, gesturing towards the exit.

But maybe he’s still broadcasting something, because twink boy definitely does not head towards the exit. Instead he gives Hank another look, and then changes again, like a fucking chameleon, to something that feels bigger and menacing, and _oh boy_ , Hank might actually be in trouble.

“You let me in now, _boy_ , and maybe I won’t have to… _punish_ you.”

Jesus Christ, it’s like a punch to the _dick_ how badly he wants to just drop down right then and there and _beg_. For what, he isn’t even sure, but from the way twink boy looks at him right now, there’s not a moment of doubt that he can _fucking deliver_.

This fucking kid went from meek sub to steely Dom in a second and a half, and Hank is well aware of his kinks, alright, they are many and varied, and he feels zero shame about it.

But he’s _at work_ , dammit.

“Look, uh,” he says, hating a little how his voice goes all croaky. His knees are _shaking_ for fuck’s sake. “Not that I’m not uh… _really_ into that. But I also don’t wanna lose my fucking job, here.”

There’s a breathless moment of tension until twink boy sighs a sigh of the deeply annoyed, and lets the facade drop, to Hanks immense relief. These uniform pants are just not roomy enough for this kind of play.

“ _Fine_. I’ll call her and have her send down my credentials. Ugh, she’s gonna be so cranky now. She hates being disturbed.”

Twink boy digs into his really quite fitted slacks to find his phone, but then stops tapping on it to turn back to Hank, this time blissfully not trying to give him a painful hard-on.

“You’re new here, I take it?”

“Not that new. Been here a while.”

Twink boy makes a thoughtful noise, and then goes back to his phone.

A quick and tense conversation later, and Hank’s console lights up with credentials. Connor _Stern_.

“You’re… you’re Amanda’s _son?_ ” Hank says, baffled for a minute. As far as he knows, Amanda doesn’t have any family.  
  
  
“In a manner of speaking,” Connor says, all polite and neutral now, and Hank soaks it up, because jeez. What a morning. “It’s a long story, and I really do need to go see her now. May I?” he asks, dipping his head towards the entrance hall.

“Sure, go right up,” Hank says, very ready for this conversation to be over so he can cool the fuck down again, and maybe get through the rest of the work day without needing to jerk off on his lunch break.

But just as he thinks he’s in the clear, Connor stops next to him, hand closing _tightly_ around Hank’s bare forearm.

“For the record, you still deserve to be punished. And if you, as you say, really are into that… well. My number is there in my file.”

Hank’s whole damn brain just whites out, and he’s not sure, but it’s possible he lets out a whimper. Christ, he’s too old for this.

But obviously Connor doesn’t think so, because he looks at Hank as if he’s every bit the needy, submissive plaything, always hiding right behind the burly wrappings nature gave him, and fuck it, Hank’s also not _strong_ enough for this shit.

“You’ll call me tonight,” Connor says definitively, and Hank only just barely manages to not respond with _yes, sir_ , getting one last squeeze to his arm before Connor lets go, leaving a tingling where they touched.

He swaggers off into the building, and despite his lean build and smooth, boyish appearance it looks _good_. Hank’s eyes are glued to him until the moment he disappears into the elevator, even though he doesn’t even cast the smallest glance back at Hank.

He’s _so_ fucked.

And he’s got a call to make tonight.

End.


End file.
